


One Hundred Ways...

by downlookingup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Smut, there's a little bit of everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...to say "I love you".</p><p>One hundred 100-word drabbles. Prompts taken from <a href="http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you">p0ck3tf0x's Tumblr challenge</a>.</p><p>Each chapter will contain the appropriate warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No. 59: "Wow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: nsfw

Brienne has thought about it more times than she’ll admit to, but whatever ecstasy her brain could conjure up pales in comparison to the reality of his groans in her ear, the dull ache of his hard cock inside her.

The familiar orgasmic shudder works its way up from the soles of her feet and into her cunt, where it fulminates and splinters her. His shoulders tremble. He buries his face in her neck, follows her into bliss.

After, when the only sound is their breaths stitching them up into people again, he grins. “Wow.”

She nods in agreement. “Wow.”


	2. No. 22: "It's not heavy. I'm stronger than I look."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: some JC

_ It’s not heavy _ , Brienne tells herself, watching them glide across the ballroom floor, like binary planets sharing the same orbit, circling one another. She thinks of Venus and Mars, burnished gold and ardent red.

Brienne knows what the look in their green eyes means. He told her himself one night in the observatory, almost insensible with drink, only the stars bearing witness. The knowledge had barely grazed her then, but she feels it now. She knows how helplessly lovesick she looks when he speaks, how they both must expect her to crumble.

_ I will not. I’m stronger than I look. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're into this 19th-century-astronomers AU thing, maybe read [this novella](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20325481-talk-sweetly-to-me)?


	3. No. 24: "Just because."

She appears outside his cell like a ghost, summoned by the hammering of the gallows in the yard. Keys clang. She opens the door.

“Hurry,” she whispers. The marshal badge glints golden in the moonlight.

He follows, wanting to know everything. _What about Catelyn Stark? What about duty?_

There’s a horse, a saddlebag bursting with provisions. “Ride east. I’ll delay the search.”

He takes the reins. “Why are you helping me? You know what I am.” _Oathbreaker. Man without honor._

Her guileless eyes make him want to drown in them. “Just… _because_. You’re not the man they think you are.”


	4. No. 39: "Don't cry."

“Don’t cry,” Jaime says, grinning. “I’ll be back in two weeks.”

Brienne drops the last of her roommate’s suitcases into the trunk of the cab and wipes her nose on her jumper sleeve. She sniffles. “I’m not crying, you idiot. It’s this cold you gave me.”

“Consider it a going away present.”

“You going away is the best present… _Ah-choo!”_

“Bless you. Liar. You’ll miss me so bad when you see how much fun Tyrion and I are having.”

“Only when the dishes need doing.”

“What about when _you_ need doing?”

She shoves him hard towards the idling taxi. “ _Go_.”


	5. No. 3: "No, no, it's my treat."

Before her morning coffee, Brienne is in no mood for Jaime Lannister, who takes his credit card and extends it towards the barista.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s customary to pay for things when you buy them.”

She grits her teeth. “I _have_ money."

“No, no, it’s my treat.” He waves the card in the barista’s face until the boy takes it.

“Why? You _hate_ me.”

“No, _you_ hate _me_.”

“For good reason!”

“Well, consider this a peace banner.” He waves the cup under her nose. “A delicious, energizing peace banner. Truce?”

She takes it and scowls. “It’s a start.”


	6. No. 19: "Can I hold your hand?"

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks, after ringing the doorbell.

“ _What?_ No!”

“If we’re gonna pull this off, we’ve gotta act a little… intimate.”

_Intimate?_ Brienne flushed. “That absolutely wasn’t part of the deal.”

“You agreed to this. I thought you understood what it meant.”

“Yes, going to a family dinner, saying we’re dating. Not holding hands!”

“You’re being unreasonable,” he says.

“No, you’re being a cheat. That wasn’t part of the—“

The door opens to reveal a plump, blonde woman. Jaime snatches Brienne’s hand and she helplessly forces a smile. “Happy birthday, Aunt Genna! This is my girlfriend…”


	7. No. 42: "Is this okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: nsfw

“Is this okay?”

Jaime didn't know she could be coy. She licks a wide stripe from root to tip, then takes the head of his cock into her mouth and sucks. Hard.

Her mouth is a furnace. Her tongue feels like silk.

He's aware of his mouth gaping open like a drowning fish's, of his hands in her hair fighting the urge to push down.

“Is this okay?” she repeats, and this time it's self-consciousness rather than coyness.

“Sweetling,” he pants, “your mouth was made to suck my cock.”

She turns red, but smiles around him like she already knows.


	8. No. 92: "I want you to be happy."

Jaime stood behind her, facing her reflection. Brienne looked like a lady for once, wearing a grey gown that actually fit. He wondered which wretched Stark had been married in it.

“I only want your happiness.”

“ _This_ makes me happy,” she snapped. “Securing the future of my house.”

“You don’t love him, wench! And frankly, you deserve better than some hedge knight.”

“Who would have me?” She turned red. “You know what they say about me… _us_.”

_I would have you,_ he almost said, but a glimpse of white wool at his back stilled his tongue. The sept bells rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh... I cheated a little with the prompt. Sue me.
> 
> Obviously book canon.


	9. No. 27: "Try some."

The waiter put the dish down. Smooth chocolate ice cream glistened inside, but Brienne’s stomach was twisted in knots. She’d been awaiting the killing blow all evening; now dessert was here, she knew it wouldn’t be long.

Jaime pushed a spoon towards her. “Try some.” He couldn’t even meet her gaze. He’d been acting aloof for weeks, but tonight it was worse.

“Just do it, will you?” she whispered.

He paled. “ _You know?_ ”

She nodded, tears stinging her eyes.

Jaime shoved his hand into the dish and pulled out a sticky diamond ring. “Gods, I thought I was being discreet.”


	10. No. 30: "One more chapter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: nsfw-ish

“Come to bed.”

Brienne hummed in acknowledgment, but turned the page. The right side of her law textbook looked about the same size as it had that morning. She picked up a highlighter and shaded half the page.

“It’s late,” Jaime said.

She began scribbling furiously on a yellow pad. “One more chapter.” 

Jaime stood up and slammed the book shut. “The exam isn’t for two weeks. You have better things to do.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

“Like letting me lick your cunt for an hour or two.”

"Oh." She blushed. “Well... the book will still be here come morning.”


	11. No. 32: "It looks good on you."

“Fucking godsdamn piece of— _Brienne!_ ”

Her heart stuttered when she went into her boss’s office. He’d changed into a sleek tuxedo and combed his golden hair back. He looked like a god, despite the cast and the sling tangled around his neck.

She gulped. “Y-yes, Mr. Lannister?”

“Help me with this stupid thing.”

She removed the sling and replaced it the right way, careful not to hurt his arm. _Gods_. The collar of his shirt was undone, and the sliver of tanned skin on his collarbone taunted her.

“It looks good on you.” She flushed. “Th-the sling.”

He smiled knowingly. “ _Right_...”


	12. No. 57: “There is enough room for both of us.”

Jaime’s cousin kindly agreed to help them move. Saturday morning, they packed up all their things and shoved them into Daven’s pickup. The problem was there were only two seats in the front, and squeezing in together was not an option.

“I’ll walk,” she said.

“Nonsense. There’s enough room for both of us,” Jaime said, patting his lap.

Brienne’s eyes bugged out.

“Come on, it’s fifteen minutes.”

“But—”

Daven honked impatiently.

She climbed in, face burning.

When they arrived, Jaime got out, hands folded in front of him, and Brienne was certain she’d never look him in the eye again.


	13. No. 21: "You might like this."

“You might like this,” Jaime said, leading her down to the basement. “Or you’ll hate it and divorce me.”

Brienne resisted the urge to tear off the blindfold. “As long as it’s not a room full of mirrors...” she joked.

He was silent.

She pulled off the scarf. “Oh, gods.” It _was_ a mirrored room, but he'd turned it into a gym with a full set of weights, punching bags, stationary bikes. The works.

“You said you hate going to that meathead gym, and I love watching you deadlift in tiny shorts.”

She kissed him. “I love it.”

“Happy anniversary.”


	14. No. 84: “The key is under the mat.”

_ The key is under the mat _ , she’d said, when he’d told her his flight had been early. She couldn’t leave work until midnight, so he was to make himself comfortable and wait for her, which felt weirdly domestic. Her apartment wasn’t lush, but it was cozy and  _ her _ . He could see himself making coffee for two in her cramped kitchen.

They hadn’t talked about what the kiss in Harrenhal had meant, but they would tonight. He was tired of living in his head. If she didn’t want him, he’d make her say so. He sat on the couch and waited.


	15. No. 73: “Take mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angsttttt

_Fifteen minutes_ , the computer announced.

Fifteen minutes to suit up, crawl across the ship, and get to the starboard escape pod. The airlock closed with a hiss behind them. Brienne went to her suit and—

“Fuck.”

The left leg was slashed.

Jaime paused, his suit halfway up his torso.

“The creature must have—” She trembled. “The others won’t fit.”

_Twelve minutes._

He pulled off the suit. “Take mine. We’re almost the same height.”

“ _No._ ”

“Live and fight. That’s what you said.”

“Jaime...”

He kissed her roughly. “Promise me.”

_Ten minutes._

She held him and kissed him back. “I swear.”


	16. No. 51: "Are you sure?"

“Turn left here.”

Brienne frowned. The street looked awfully familiar. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Stop asking that.”

She made the turn and immediately saw the same goat-shaped mailbox they'd passed fifteen minutes ago. She groaned. “When will you admit that you have no idea where we are?”

“I know where we are. It's these streets that are confusing.”

“Let's ask him,” she said, pointing at a man walking a dog.

“No! I'll get us there, just give me a minute.” He flattened the map on the dashboard.

“You're being very stereotypically male. It's just like that time in Maidenpool—”

“ _Don't._ ”


	17. No. 13: "Sorry I'm late."

A tall, lumbering woman walked into the conference room, carrying a stack of binders. “Sorry I'm late,” she said. “I'm Brienne Tarth. Ms. Tully couldn't make it.”

For the next two hours, she presented the Stark-Tully proposal, fielding questions from all the board members.

Jaime looked her up online. She'd only gotten her master’s degree in marketing two years ago, yet she spoke as though she had decades of experience.

“Who made these charts?” Jaime asked.

She was ugly, especially when scowling, but her big blue eyes were astonishing. " I did.”

Jaime decided to vote in favor of the proposal.


	18. No. 1: “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”

The radio’s been down for days. That doesn't stop her from fiddling with the dial as she drives. It gives her something specific to hope for. Survivors. A refuge. Another human voice. Anything but the empty road.

She yawns and the lenses of her gas mask fog up.

“Pull over,” he says. “Let me drive for a while.” Jaime grins at her, eyes shining. “You're tired.”

“I'm fine.”

“You're gonna get me killed.” She glares and he laughs merrily. “The end of the world is the perfect time to get a sense of humor.”

“It's a little late for that.”


	19. No. 23: “I’ll wait.”

The horn sounded thrice, and the castle descended into chaos. Brienne tried to get up from her cot, but Jaime pushed her back. Her skin was burning up.

“I need to fight,” she moaned.

“You need to _heal_.”

She insisted, “I feel better.”

Jaime lifted her shift and poked her wound. She shrunk away with a gasp. “The wound is still tender, wench, and you can barely raise your sword arm.”

Brienne glared at him, but said nothing.

“Promise you won’t sneak off.”

“Fine.”

He arched an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes.

“I promise I’ll wait here.”

“Stubborn wench.”


	20. No. 20: “You can borrow mine.”

Someone’s stolen her cleats. Brienne empties her locker, shakes out her gym bag on the floor, looks under benches and tables and even in the showers. She worked overtime for them, she _bled_ for them. Two hundred dollars. _Gone._

Face burning, she walks into the field in sneakers, and Coach Stark sends her home in front of the whole team. Some of the guys are laughing and she _knows_.

Lannister follows her to the parking lot. “You can borrow my spares,” he says, tossing her a pair of scuffed yellow cleats. It’s the first time he’s ever spoken to her.


	21. No. 31: “Don’t worry about me.”

Jaime’s never seen her cry before. She’s usually so stoic. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he take her hand? Pat her back? He settles for watching silently as she reads the email again and again.

“I’ll make arrangements for a leave of absence,” he says.

Tarth wipes her face with the sleeves of her uniform. “No need, sir.”

“Your father’s _dead_.”

“My men need me,” she snaps.

Jaime sighs. He won’t force her to go. “Don’t get reckless.”

A forced, crooked-toothed smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

He scowls. She knows better than to expect that.


	22. No. 66: “Stay over.”

Brienne is drunk, but not too drunk to mishear his offer.

“Stay over,” he says, because it’s late and she can’t drive and it will be impossible to get a cab at this hour in the suburbs. 

“Stay over,” he says, and she knows she can’t because the animal that’s burrowed in her chest for years might see it for what it’s not.

“Stay over,” he says, taking her coat from her hands and leading her into his bedroom. He takes a pillow, leaves her alone.

“Stay over,” she whispers to the dark, wishing he'll turn around and join her.


	23. No. 18: “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

The next morning, he makes breakfast. The smell of bacon makes her stomach roil. The sight of his bare torso makes her heart race. She must look like a mess because he puts a glass of fizzy water down in front of her. 

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

She sips it, trying to keep her eyes from lingering on his chest as he eats. The animal in her chest is starving, but if she feeds it, it will grow.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, casually.

“Not bad,” he says, “but I got lonely.”

She tries not to swoon.


	24. No. 7: “I dreamed about you last night.”

“I dreamed about you last night,” he says, halfway through a stakeout.

“Oh, really?” She’s looking out the window with a pair of binoculars. Their suspect is holed up in a grimy motel. “Was I kicking your ass at poker again?”

“Actually,  _ I _ was kicking yours.” He snatches the scopes and takes a look. The suspect is leaving. “It was  _ strip _ poker, by the way. You were wearing this tiny, flowery thong. And no bra!” She punches his arm. “Dream Brienne is quite the sexpot, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Shut up,” she grouses, hiding her reddened face with the camera.


	25. No. 93: “I believe in you.”

Brienne doubles over and puts her head between her knees, breathing hard. Her heart is beating too fast. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course you can do it.”

“No, I can’t. I’ll drown. I’ll come in dead last. I don’t know which is worse.”

His hand is on her back, rubbing soothingly. “You’re going to win.” He speaks as though it’s a foregone conclusion.

“How do you know?”

“I’m clairvoyant.” She glares and he laughs. “I know what you’re capable of.”

“But how can you be  _ sure?” _

He shrugs. “Because I believe in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apropos of the Olympics, swimmer!Brienne and coach!Jaime.
> 
> Hey! I'm a quarter of the way through!


	26. No. 17: “Watch your step.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of drabbles are related.
> 
> 1/10

“We should marry,” he says.

Brienne trips on the last step and clutches his arm to keep from falling on her face.

Jaime steadies her. “Whoa, watch your step.”

“ _What?”_

“You need money for your father’s surgery. I need to get _my_ father off my back about marriage. We can help each other.”

“We just met!”

“Exactly! It’s fate.” He beams at her confidently.

“Are you crazy?”

He’s serious. “Is two million dragons enough? In two years, we'll get divorced and you never have to see me again.”

She stares like he’s grown another head, but she starts considering it.


	27. No. 14: “Can I have this dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/10

“Can I have this dance?” he asks in front of everyone, and she has to accept. Hundreds of eyes are on her flushed face and her overly embellished wedding dress. She feels their judgement and contempt. She looks ridiculous, while he looks handsome as ever in his tux.

“Someone will find out,” she whispers, as they sway to a cheesy ballad. 

He kisses her cheek for their audience’s benefit. “Think about your dad’s surgery.”

“It won’t work. You and me? It’s absurd.”

“It works if we say it’s real.”

She wishes she had his confidence in her talent for lying.


	28. No. 6: “Have a good day at work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/10

They are essentially roommates who have to kiss in public and sleep in the same bed so the housekeeper won’t gossip. Nothing more. There’s no sexual tension between them. When their hands stray at night and end up on each other’s bodies, it means nothing, save for a brief moment of embarrassment upon waking. There are no lingering looks at night when he comes into the bedroom shirtless, his shoulders still wet from the shower. When they leave in the morning and say: “Have a good day at work,” the excitement she feels about seeing him later is merely platonic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
> 
> —Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2


	29. No. 4: “Let me fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/10

When Brienne’s zipper jams, trapping her in that gods-damned dress, it’s the last straw. _You love him_ , his cousin said, her eyes glinting with triumph at how easily she figured Brienne out. She covers her face and cries hot, embarrassed tears.

“What’s wrong?” He’s by the door, frowning.

She hastily dries her tears. “The zipper’s stuck.”

He clearly doesn’t buy it, but sits behind her. “Let me fix it.” He fiddles with the tab and it finally gives way, exposing her back to him.

She shivers when he puts his lips on her bare skin. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”


	30. No. 29: “Well, what do you want to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/10

They’re in line to board the plane when his phone rings and Jaime steps away to answer.  Brienne knows who it is and dreads hearing the news.

When Jaime returns, he’s pale. “Robert’s dead. Stroke.”

Brienne goes cold. After last night, she thought they were on their way to a  _ real _ relationship. She knows what happens now, but she asks anyway. “What do you want to do?”

He avoids her gaze. “She needs me.”

Her chest feels tight. She knows she’ll regret this but she takes her ticket from him. “See you next week,” she says, and turns her back.


	31. No. 76: “I want you to have this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/10

Brienne stares at the papers in front of her. _Petition for divorce_ , they read. The black line meant for her signature is as sharp as a knife on the white paper.

She feels like crying. “What about the contract?”

He scowls. “You’ll get your money. Don’t worry.”

If it weren’t for her dad, she’d tell him where to shove his money.

He puts something on the table. “I want you to have these.” The cufflinks. Her stomach roils. “Tell Selwyn I’m sorry we couldn’t go fishing.”

She picks up the pen and scratches her signature. “Keep them,” she spits out.


	32. No. 10: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/10

It’s been week of enduring condolences from friends and half-strangers alike. She still hasn’t cried. Brienne wonders if there’s something wrong with her that keeps her from mourning properly. During the wake, she cleans up after the guests, watches her aunt sob in a corner, and wishes for a single tear.

The doorbell rings. She answers with a tray of crackers and it clatters to the floor. It’s been  _ years _ since they last saw each other. He’s wearing the cufflinks her dad gave him that first (and only) Mother’s Night.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, and she weeps.


	33. No. 82: “I was in the neighborhood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/10

Jaime looks nervous in the kitchen. The bottle of wine he brought sweats on the countertop.

Brienne keeps her distance on the opposite side of the room. Two years have not lessened his effect on her. “Why are you here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“I mean,  _ here _ . On Tarth.”

He shrugs.

Brienne decides to stop dancing around the issue. “How’s your cousin?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, his voice strained.

She laughs. “You broke up again? Surprise, surprise.”

“We never got back together.”

That brings her up short. “Not even after...”

“Our divorce? No.”

Brienne frowns. She’d thought... “Oh.”


	34. No. 58: “You don’t have to say anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/10

He slumps against her, his breath coming in hot pants by her ear, and as the world comes back into focus, she realizes what they’ve just done.  _ You’re so stupid, Brienne. _

She waits until he rolls away to get up and gather his clothes. “I have an appointment soon.”

He scoffs. “On a Saturday?”

When she looks back toward him, her stomach lurches. In the half-light, he almost looks like a god.

She wants to crawl back into bed with him, but she knows better. “Jaime—”

With a sigh, he stands up. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m going.”


	35. No. 36: “We’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/10

They meet on neutral territory, a café where there are no beds to turn their confrontation physical. They draw blood anyway, opening badly healed wounds and making new ones.

“You never let me in.”

“You went to her.”

“You didn’t come after me.”

“You made me fall in love.”

“You made me fall in love too.”

“I should have fought harder.”

“I should have stayed.”

“I still reach for you in the mornings.”

“Let’s try again.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “No lies. No pretending.”

Brienne trembles. “How can we make this work?”

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”


	36. No. 47: “Did you get my letters?”

She’s a sight for sore eyes, ugly as she is. Jaime remembers her cheek and how the bite had bled into the collar of her nurse’s uniform. It’s healed, but the scar is jagged. He thinks it’s an apt metaphor for them, badly healed war wounds that they are.

“Did you get my letters?” He sent dozens of them, ranging from the mundane to the self-eviscerating. None were answered.

Brienne stares at her shoes. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“‘Hello’ is a good start.” He holds out his hand and smiles. “Hello.”

After an eternity, she shakes it. “Hello.”


	37. No. 28: “Drive safely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rape mention cw

He walks her to her car by the compound gates. He can’t stop watching her. She looks older, self-assured. She’s still not pretty, but confidence rests well on her shoulders. He imagines her compound is straight-laced but pleasant. 

“Drive safely,” he says, when they reach her truck, loaded with food she traded for building supplies. “We sighted a horde two miles out yesterday.”

“I’ll be careful.” She pauses, like she doesn’t want to leave, before getting in and driving away.

He remembers the rapists he executed the week before and wishes—not for the first time— he could join her.


	38. No. 96: “I brought you an umbrella.”

He was just there, suddenly, next to her under the restaurant’s awning. He was soaked to the bone, his darkened blond hair plastered to his forehead. His bespoke gray suit was ruined. 

“I saw you from my window,” he said. The Lannister Corp offices were just across. “You look like an angry wet cat.”

Brienne blushed. “So you came all the way down to make fun of me?”

“No,” he huffed. “I brought you an umbrella.”

A large red umbrella with the corporate logo, to be precise. It had turned inside out and one of the wires had detached completely.


	39. No. 81: “Sweet dreams.”

After supper, like every night, Jaime escorted her to her chambers, as they discussed possible solutions to Lord Whitehead and Lord Mertyns’ land dispute.

“It’s been two weeks. Just tell them to bugger off and stop wasting your time.”

She gasped. “I couldn’t do that!”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. He leaned in. “You’re Lady Paramount,” he said, softly. “You can do whatever you want.”

Suddenly, he was too close. Brienne wondered if he would finally kiss her. Or perhaps he wanted _her_ to do it. They stood quietly, waiting, until he said, “Sweet dreams,” and left.

 _Tomorrow,_ she thought.


	40. No. 74: “We can share.”

Due to an unfortunate scheduling error during the lake’s high season, they’re booked into a room with one queen-sized bed. There are no other rooms available and no hotel for fifty miles. There’s no choice but to stay. Their editor wants an article, and Brienne will be damned if she doesn’t write it.

Jaime vaults onto the bed, lies over the covers like he belongs there.  He pats a spot on the mattress next to him.  “Come on, we can share. I sleep on the left.”

“So do I,” she grouses.

He grins mischievously. “You can sleep on me, then.”


	41. No. 55: "I don't mind."

Jaime couldn’t tear his eyes away from Brienne’s fingers as they worked the lump of white clay on the wheel between her legs. She dipped her hand in water and wrapped her long fingers around the spinning cylinder, smoothing out the sides. Rivulets of milky water ran down her wrists to her elbows.

His painting momentarily forgotten, Jaime adjusted himself in his tight jeans. Maybe sharing a studio had been a mistake.

“You’re staring,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, grabbing his paintbrush.

He was struck anew by her eyes when she looked at him. “I don’t mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gearing up for [JB Appreciation Week](http://jaimebrienneonline.tumblr.com/post/150121040774/jb-week-schedule), and I was thinking about trying something. Tell me which of these 41 drabbles is your favorite, and I'll try to write a longer ficlet about the top seven. (Excluding the 10-part "fake marriage" drabble series, 'cause I think that one's pretty complete already!) I'll be tallying up the votes until September 18. You can comment here or message me on [Tumblr](http://asharastarfall.tumblr.com)!


	42. No. 79: "You're warm."

Brienne woke to soft thumping noises. Jaime was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to take his shoes off silently.

“You’re back early.”

He smiled over his shoulder. “I changed my flight. Now, go back to sleep.”

She rubbed her eyes. “What about the Freys?”

“They’re idiots.” He undressed, slipped into bed naked, and wrapped his arms around her. “Want  _ us _ to do  _ their _ job.” 

His frigid toes burrowed under her thighs. She hissed. “Your feet are cold.”

“And you’re warm.” He nuzzled her neck. “Warm me up.”

Brienne pushed him back onto the pillows and kissed him.


	43. No. 90: "You can tell me anything."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> body horror cw (I guess??)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A seasonal, jumbo-sized "drabble". Happy Halloween, spooks!

“Open the door.”

“I’m sick, Jaime,” Brienne said, and forced a cough.

He could only see half her face through the gap. Her skin was clammy and wan, her pupil blown. She wasn’t well, but he had a feeling it wasn’t just a cold.

“I’m worried about you.” He didn’t like the tone of desperation in his voice, but he hadn’t been at work yesterday or today, hadn’t answered his calls or messages. It was entirely unlike her. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“Two minutes.” He nodded, and she let the door swing open. Brienne stood in the dark hallway, shivering under a threadbare blanket. She looked like death. His hands immediately went to her face.

“You’re burning up. We should go to the hospital.”

“No!” She jerked away from him, drawing the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Her gaze was wide and glassy, unfocused. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.”

Jaime eyed the blanket. “What are you hiding?”

A violent shudder ran through her. “You need to leave.”

“You can tell me anything,” he said. “You know that.”

Her lip trembled. “Not this, Jaime.”

Jaime took a step closer. She flattened her body against the wall, but did nothing to halt his progress. He raised his hand to touch her face, caressed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. He hated seeing her like this.

Before she could stop him, he snatched the blanket from her grip, exposing the juncture between her neck and right shoulder. There, where the crimson scars of the bear attack in the woods last month rippled the skin, coarse black hair was growing. It extended down her chest and arm and seemed to thicken before his eyes.

“Brienne, what the fuck?”

Her eyes shimmered with tears, but now they had changed from that familiar shade of blue to an amberlike brown. Hair sprouted from her neck, her cheeks. Her pale hair darkened as he watched. Jaime jumped back until he felt the wall against his back.

“You need to go,” she growled. Even her voice was different. “Right now.”

“Brienne...”

She threw the blanket off and drew herself up, towering over him. The sound of bones cracking and popping filled his ears. “ _ Go! _ ”

He turned and ran, and slamming the door shut behind him. He heard the locks sliding into place, and then a blood-curling scream turning into a deafening roar.


	44. No. 54: "I made reservations."

“I made reservations,” Jaime repeats. “It’s my brother’s stag party.”

Tyrion tugs at his sleeve. “It’s fine, let’s go somewhere else.” Bronn and Oberyn nod their assent. But there _isn’t_ somewhere else on this godsforsaken island. As far as destination weddings go, Tyrion’s is terrible.

The tall, ugly hostess —her name plate says “Brienne”— shrugs apologetically. “We have no tables, ser.”

“I’m Jaime Lannister,” he declares. “Lannister Media? Petrolan?”

Her blue eyes have no business looking so stunning as she stares back blankly. “Try tomorrow.”

“You bet I will, _Brienne_.” He makes her name sound filthy and she turns red.


	45. No. 89: "I noticed."

They crashed through the apartment door, grabbing each other’s clothing, as if racing to see who could undress the other first. Brienne won, ripping off the buttons from Jaime’s shirt before he could pull her sweater off. He grinned at her, surprised, and kissed her roughly, his tongue invading her mouth. He tasted like beer and the cotton candy they’d shared earlier.

“You’re very bold tonight,” he said against her lips.

She nipped his ear. “I’m tired of being careful.” Guarding her heart from him was exhausting.

He slipped a hand down her dampened underwear, making her gasp. “I noticed.”


End file.
